Untraditional
by overcaffeinated scrawlings
Summary: Havoc takes on an extra job on his time off from work. Well, he's gotta pay for those cigarettes somehow. However, he wasn't expecting it to be like this...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Jean Havoc had always liked the _average_ type of girl. No, not average, that wasn't the word - maybe "traditional." The type who wore dresses or skirts, smiled behind her hand, maybe played piano or flute. The kind of girl who took sugar in her tea.

Perhaps this had been his mistake. _Everyone_ in the military knew he had terrible luck with women. He'd been dumped, it was a popular rumor, by more girls than he'd even _dated_. The women of the military called him "the anti-Roy Mustang" behind his back, and laughed to eachother every time he set out on a particularly pathetic quest to woo a town girl who had caught his eye.

The theories were seemingly infinite: Havoc was almost stalkerish in his advances; maybe he always took dates to the wrong place (a story was going around that he'd taken an _extremely_ religious young woman to a, er, gentleman's club) or two-timed them (doubtful); or maybe, as Mustang had once theorized, he was just _really, _really bad in bed.

Or maybe he just hadn't found the right woman yet.

***

Sarah Kelley wasn't a very traditional girl at all. She, in fact, liked to think of herself as a "girl breaking all the laws of what had come before, venturing into the fray of society with all the bravado of a soldier on the battlefield-" but that was a bit long-winded for this particular story, and was a description that would probably fit better into one of her manuscripts. All her life she'd been told by her father to just _calm down_ for a moment, to clean the brambles out of her hair and to please, please _ask_ before she borrowed his fountain pen, and not to break it again.

She'd spent the better part of her nineteen years being told that she, while having her own merits, wasn't as pretty/demure/insert flattering adjective here as her younger sister Clare, a year her junior and lucky enough to have inherited their debutante mother's tall-blonde-and-willowy genes, and so she'd turned to more cerebral pursuits - namely, writing. She was alright with social situations- though she had an unfortunate propensity to bring up rather taboo topics in front of rather important people - but, in the end, she was better with a pen and paper than in conversation.

She'd never dated a man; she believed them all to be dull, boring, and generally not worth her time. At the age of twelve, she'd decided this once and for all:

"I'm going to become a cat-lady writer and _no one is going to stop me_."

This proclamation had been mostly followed by yelps of "Are you really feeling well?" and "Don't be silly" from her female relatives, who'd been present at the time. Still, she'd never gone back on that declaration, and she didn't plan to.

Perhaps her attitude wasn't exactly proper for a girl of such high breeding. After all, her father _was_ the governor of quite a large city, and a very influential man to the military and government.

Which certainly explained Sarah's current predicament. The daughter of such a well-known man was expected to marry young, and at nineteen, according to her parents, it would be "most prosperous" to hand her off to, well, the highest bidder before she got "too old." So far, the highest bidder happened to be a young man, John Stovell, from a family much like hers, who happened to be visiting Central, which was conveniently located about halfway between the Stovell estate and Sarah's home. In the eyes of her parents, it was a coincidence that they just couldn't pass up on: it was the perfect time for them to meet.

But the daughter of such an influential man was also quite the liability: in a kidnapping situation, especially in light of the recent terrorist attacks, so of course she'd need a particularly good escort for the week she'd spend without her family. What better escort for a military child than a member of the military?

The call went to Central HQ, then to Colonel Roy Mustang, through the ranks of his subordinates, until it finally reached the ears of one man, who could always use a little extra cash. (All the smoking burned, pun _very _much intended, quite a hole in his budget.)

Jean Havoc had called to say he would take the job.

***

"Er, I'm here for Room 213. Could you please tell her that Mr. Havoc's arrived?"

The desk bellboy tilted his head, curious as to why a man in full military garb had shown up in such a high-class hotel, but connected the cables on the intercom and repeated Havoc's message. The man in question moved to stand awkwardly near the French doors, his arms crossed and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"She'll be on her way," called the bellboy to Havoc, who nodded to show he'd heard, and sighed. Maybe this job wasn't going to be so easy after all. With his luck, Sarah Kelley would be some sort of more-old-money-than-thou type who'd refuse to speak to him unless it was to give order. But why should he expect anything else? He was a bodyguard, nothing more, and would remain that way for the rest of the week. As long as there were no emergencies, he would be getting that cash easily.

The door from the staircase swung open, and Havoc looked up. There she was, the girl he'd be protecting. She wasn't strikingly pretty, her wavy chestnut hair was a bit of a mess, and her cheeks were sprinkled with freckles, but she was good-looking in a very _everyday_ way. She wore a simple white blouse, with a round collar, and long dark blue skirt. With the notebook she clutched to her chest with ink-stained hands, Havoc thought, she looked like a young and impressionable teacher, prepared to take names but too forgiving to dole out detentions.

"Miss Kelley?" he asked, smiling slightly. She seemed normal enough.

There was a pause as she looked him up and down, and then spoke:

"I want you to take me drinking."

_Wait! Pause! Rewind!_ Havoc jerked back slightly, staring incredulously at the young woman. "Take you _which_?"

Sarah crossed her arms and looked up into his eyes. "I said I want you to take me drinking. I've never been to a bar and _I want to go_."

"What the-? Why?!"

"I can't write about it if I've never been to it. Now come _on_- your car's outside, isn't it- hurry up, Mr. Havoc, it's almost seven and I want to get some _research_ done-" She grabbed him by the fabric of his jacket's sleeve and dragged him towards the door.

Only one thought was running through Havoc's mind: _Oh, _no_- what've I gotten myself _into_?_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **No, I didn't just write this... I've been working on chapters 1 and 2 for a few weeks now and only just got up the courage to post both... please, if you could be incredibly nitpicky about Sue-ism, it'd help me out a lot. I don't want to write a Sue, so help me out... ^^;;

**Chapter Two**

"Hey, I thought Jean was working."

Roy Mustang looked up at the bartender of the Silver Swan, where he'd been sitting on a barstool for the past twenty minutes. "He is. He's got that part-time job with Governor Kelley's daughter."

"Then why's he here?"

"Huh?" Roy followed the bartender's line of sight to the Swan's front door, where, sure enough, his colleague was walking into the bar, some girl behind him.

"You think he would've given up by now."

Roy waved his hand up and down as Havoc and Sarah walked closer and closer. "No, no, this isn't a date. This is for _work_. Ah, Miss Kelley-" he swung his bar stool around to face her- "It's very nice to meet you."

"Roy." As Havoc pulled out a stool for Sarah, he turned and glared at his superior officer. "I know what you're thinking, so stop it _right now_. I'm supposed to _protect_ her, not let her get drafted into your... miniskirt harem."

"Miniskirt harem? What? I never said-"

Sarah, meanwhile, was paying absolutely no attention whatsoever to the two men's bickering. Instead she had opened her notebook and was now scribbling furiously: _beer smells like bread- why? Lots of men in here, not so many women. Who the hell brings a baby into a _bar_?_

"What are you writing?"

"Nothing important." Sarah shut her notebook with a snap and tucked her pen behind her ear. "Why do you want to know?"

Roy rolled his eyes. "Just curious."

_He's curious about a _lot_ of things,_ Havoc thought, and then, _Why am I so defensive about this?_ He was _used_ to Roy making a move on anything with, well, certain physical characteristics that he probably shouldn't even be _thinking_ about in front of a young lady like Miss Kelley.

"If you were going to say something," Sarah said, digging in her purse, "you should just say it. I don't like it when people censor themselves around me- ah, there it is." She located her wallet and slapped a bill down on the counter. "One pint, please."

"A _pint_- Miss _Kelley_- are you sure you-"

Her hand flew up between them, blocking out his concerned face. "Eh-eh-eh." (He could almost hear the finger-wagging in her voice.) "You're supposed to be protecting me, not judging my choice of drink."

"I _am_ protecting you." Havoc crossed his arms. "You may not think it, Miss Kelley-"

"Sarah."

"-_Sarah_, but there are a lot of men out there who would, er, _take advantage of_ a girl like yourself, especially if you were drunk, so-"

Roy looked indignant. "Why'd you glance at me when you said that?"

Now there was a question that didn't need answering.

The bartender set down Sarah's beer in front of her. She slipped her notebook back into her purse and slid the mug towards her. "Is there anything I need to put in this? Sugar, or something?"

"_Sugar?_ What? No..." For a moment, he seriously wondered if she'd ever even left her house before. It was like taking a small child to an office party; all "What's that do?" and "Is this edible?" (but thankfully no "Can I use this photocopy machine for just a second?")

"Good. I don't _like_ sugar." Sarah lifted the mug and sipped. Havoc waited for the inevitable: some sort of "Ew, this is disgusting!" explosion.

"Hm. It's kinda good."

Roy leaned around Sarah to give Havoc a look that clearly said, _where the heck did you find _this_ girl?_

All he could do in response was shrug and look perplexed.

***

"Thanks for walking me home."

They walked up the street, Sarah perhaps a little wobbly after her drinks, towards her hotel. As the sun went down, it had gotten increasingly cold, so Havoc's jacket was now draped over his charge's shoulders, giving her the appearance of a child dressed up in clothes much too big for them.

"It's no trouble. I'm getting paid, after all - oh, d'you want me to walk you up to your room?"

"Eh, I'll be fine." Sarah smiled wryly and began to pull off the jacket she'd borrowed. "I think I can manage a few flights of stairs."

"I'm sure you can."

There was a very awkward silence as he stood, his hand resting on the door behind her as she looked up at him rather crossly.

"You can leave now, Mr. Havoc..."

Her voice trailed off as he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. (And somewhere, the more sane portion of his brain was yelping: _what are you _doing_, you imbecile? She's a _governor's _daughter! This is _definitely_ not allowed!_) "It was a pleasure to spend the evening with you, Miss Kelley."

Taking his jacket out of her hands, he shrugged it over his shoulders, turned, and headed back down the street the way he'd come. Sarah, face turning pinker by the second, stared after him, her expression caught somewhere in between "incredulous" and "perplexed".

Halfway down the street, he paused and called over his shoulder: "I'll come by at noon tomorrow."


End file.
